BARBARA MAKES A SPEECH
While Alan and Barbara， on the most momentous occasion of their lives， were seated upon the fallen oak in the woods that thrilled with the breath of spring， another interview was taking place in Mr. Champers-Haswell's private suite at The Court， the decorations of which， as he was wont to inform his visitors， had cost nearly ā2000. Sir Robert， whose taste at any rate was good， thought them so appalling that while waiting for his host and partner， whom he had come to see， he took a seat in the bow window of the sitting-room and studied the view that nobody had been able to spoil. Presently Mr. Haswell emerged from his bedroom， wrapped in a dressing gown and looking very pale and shaky.
"Delighted to see you all right again，" said Sir Robert as he wheeled up a chair into which Mr. Haswell sank.
"I am not all right， Aylward，" he answered； "I am not all right at all. Never had such an upset in my life； thought I was going to die when that accursed savage told his beastly tale. Aylward， you are a man of the world， tell me， what is the meaning of the thing？ You remember what we thought we saw in the office， and then--that story."
"I don't know，" he answered； "frankly I don't know. I am a man who has never believed in anything I cannot see and test， one who utterly lacks faith. In my leisure I have examined into the various religious systems and found them to be rubbish. I am convinced that we are but highly-developed mammals born by chance， and when our day is done， departing into the black nothingness out of which we came. Everything else， that is， what is called the higher and spiritual part， I attribute to the superstitions incident to the terror of the hideous position in which we find ourselves， that of gods of a sort hemmed in by a few years of fearful and tormented life. But you know the old arguments， so why should I enter on them？ And now I am confronted with an experience which I cannot explain. I certainly thought that in the office on Friday evening I saw that gold mask to which I had taken so strange a fancy that I offered to give Vernon ā17，000 for it because I thought that it brought us luck， swim across the floor of our room and look first into your face and then into mine. Well， the next night that negro tells his story. What am I to make of it？"
"Can't tell you，" answered Mr. Champers-Haswell with a groan. "All I know is that it nearly made a corpse of me. I am not like you， Aylward， I was brought up as an Evangelical， and although I haven't given much thought to these matters of late years--well， we don't shake them off in a hurry. I daresay there is something somewhere， and when the black man was speaking， that something seemed uncommonly near. It got up and gripped me by the throat， shaking the mortal breath out of me， and upon my word， Aylward， I have been wishing all the morning that I had led a different kind of life， as my old parents and my brother John， Barbara's father， who was a very religious kind of man， did before me."
"It is rather late to think of all that now， Haswell，" said Sir Robert， shrugging his shoulders. "One takes one's line and there's an end. Personally I believe that we are overstrained with the fearful and anxious work of this flotation， and have been the victims of an hallucination and a coincidence. Although I confess that I came to look upon the thing as a kind of mascot， I put no trust in any fetish.
How can a bit of gold move， and how can it know the future？ Well， I have written to them to clear it out of the office to-morrow， so it won't trouble us any more. And now I have come to speak to you on another matter."
"Not business，" said Mr. Haswell with a sigh. "We have that all the week and there will be enough of it on Monday."
"No，" he answered， "something more important. About your niece Barbara."
Mr. Haswell glanced at him with those little eyes of his which were so sharp that they seemed to bore like gimlets.
"Barbara？" he said. "What of Barbara？"
"Can't you guess， Haswell？ You are pretty good at it， generally. Well， it is no use beating about the bush； I want to marry her."
At this sudden announcement his partner became exceedingly interested.
Leaning back in the chair he stared at the decorated ceiling， and uttered his favourite wind-in-the-wires whistle.
"Indeed，" he said. "I never knew that matrimony was in your line， Aylward， any more than it has been in mine， especially as you are always preaching against it. Well， has the young lady given her consent？"
"No， I have not spoken to her. I meant to do so this morning， but she has slipped off somewhere， with Vernon， I suppose."
Mr. Haswell whistled again， but on a new note.
"Pray do stop that noise，" said Sir Robert； "it gets upon my nerves， which are shaky this morning. Listen： It is a curious thing， one less to be understood even than the coincidence of the Yellow God， but at my present age of forty-four， for the first time in my life I have committed the folly of what is called falling in love. It is not the case of a successful， middle-aged man wishing to /ranger/ himself and settle down with a desirable /partie/， but of sheer， stark infatuation. I adore Barbara； the worse she treats me the more I adore her. I had rather that the Sahara flotation should fail than that she should refuse me. I would rather lose three-quarters of my fortune than lose her. Do you understand？"
His partner looked at him， pursed up his lips to whistle， then remembered and shook his head instead.
"No，" he answered. "Barbara is a nice girl， but I should not have imagined her capable of inspiring such sentiments in a man almost old enough to be her father. I think that you are the victim of a kind of mania， which I have heard of but never experienced. Venus--or is it Cupid？--has netted you， my dear Aylward."
"Oh！ pray leave gods and goddesses out of it， we have had enough of them already，" he answered， exasperated. "That is my case at any rate， and what I want to know now is if I have your support in my suit.
